Red Pranks and Bees
by ForevermoreNevermore
Summary: No, I've seen this before..." Mia Carter turns up, dead and Patrick Jane is on the case as usual. But, the deeper he delves, the deeper it goes, and the closer he gets to the truth. But, his investigation might be cut short. Gradual Jisbon. Please review!
1. A Murder Most Foul

_Hello fello Mentalist lovers! I really think these 2 make a really cute couple, and I wanted some romance._

_Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist. I do not own whatever show the idea for the quiz came from. Not quite sure which show it was, I just remembered it._

Red Prank and Honey

Patrick Jane lay on his usual tan couch, a pillow over his face as though he were suffering the relapse of a hangover. But, those close to him knew all to well that he was just too darn good for one of them. Nothing more than a minor tap ever graced HIS temple.

"Lisbon!" his voice was muffled, yet the brunette came over, almost as though she was listening for her name.

"What's it this time, Jane?" her voice was gruff, yet there was an undercurrent of something that even the 'psychic' couldn't read.

"I've got a test-" due to the muffling the pillow caused, the girl pushed it off and stared into his clear eyes. "-for you," he finished, his face slightly apathetic, as though he was trying to wipe his face of whatever feeling he had on there before. She scowled.

"We're in the FBI, we don't have time for jokes and quizes!" she sighed, a slight smile gracing her face. He gave a crooked grin, his right eye squinting because of it.

"No, no, consider this training," he whispered. She knew she'd regret this, but she asked anyway.

"How so?"

"Well, you'll see…"

"Fine, but make it quick," Jane sat up straight and his face lit up like he was just five.

"Okay, rules, everyone, everywhere, and everything needs rules. Rule number one, don't think. Rule number two, if you're listening, you're thinking, so stop it. Here we go. I'm going to ramble off questions, and I want you to answer them without thinking about it. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Okay, stop thinking… now! Whisky or beer?"

"Whisky."

"Sky or ground."

"Sky."

"Knife or Gillette?"

"Knife."

"Straight or curly?"

"Straight." His smile began to falter.

"Gold or silver?"

"Gold."

"Briefs or boxers?"

"What?"

"Eh-eh, don't think," he chided, shaking a finger at her.

"Okay, briefs." The smile now seemed fake, as it stayed numbly plastered to his face.

"Ah, well, that was fun," he said, standing up and giving a quick bow. Lisbon turned her head sideways and gave him a what-the-heck look.

"What was that all about?" She paused as Patrick turned his head ever so slightly so his right ear was turned towards her. "I mean, could you explain?"

"Hey, we got a case!" Cho shouted, almost happily, entering the room. The two turned towards him, and then looked at each other again, locking eyes for a split second before Lisbon broke the link out of nervousness. With a flourish of sunshine curls and cologne that was so hardly there, it could only be smelt as he passed you, Patrick Jane was standing beside her, his right hand on her right shoulder, his mouth inches from her ear. His instincts kicked in as he felt her heart rate increase ever so slightly and her lips part as though meaning to say something, but not quite daring to.

"Maybe I'll explain later," he whispered, noticing her hair smelt of a mixture of whisky and honey-nut shampoo. It tickled his nose, and fizzled his senses. He straightened and turned, walking off towards the others in a flourish of his cologne. His nose itched violently and he felt his stomach heave itself into last night's upside down position. He felt his sinuses tear themselves into pieces and burn as if on fire.

"Okay, here's the case," Cho slammed the manila folder down on Van Pelt's desk, scaring the redhead. "One of the missing people we've been trying to find, that young girl…"

"Mia Carter," the redheaded newbie piped up.

"Yes, that's the one. She's been found, killed. It seems as though she's been stung by bees, may be incident, may be murder, we're not sure yet," he finished, leaning against the desk. Lisbon, who was right next to Patrick Jane, sensed him straighten up slightly at the word 'bees'.

"Where is it?" Rigsby, the final fifth member of their team asked. Cho gave a slightly grim smile.

"I'll drive."

* * *

The overcast and melancholy clouds grimaced down at the CBI team, watching their trek through the tall grass to the dead body, taped off by yellow. Jane somehow manage to lag behind, stepping gracefully onto every pile of grass to avoid the mud that had recently been create due to the rain that had pounded the dead body hours before being found. The other four were already examining the body, forgetting they were missing a 'psychic'. Soon, though, he joined the group of onlookers. He looked down at the body, and then kneeled like a frog over her body. Her eyes were wide-open, blank, and red vines snaked across the once-vibrant green in the middle. Her lips were pursed closed, as though trying to keep something in.

"Sounds like it's going to rain again," Van Pelt muttered as she kneeled down across from Jane, her face showing her apparent sadness for the incident. Jane had already noticed the sound of thunder, but had realized it came from too close. Absently, he groped around the ground with his hand, looking for a stick.

"That's no rain," Jane muttered, gently using the stick he found to make the victim's jaw drop. A bee slowly droned out of her mouth, followed by three others. He stood, backing away and avoiding the bee's trail by a wide girth. The others looked over just in time to notice where the bees came from. As soon as the bees were well gone, Jane knelt down once more to scrutinize the girl's face. After a moment he gently nudged her head over, revealing the nape of her neck. There was a line where there was an apparent lack of red hair. "That was murder."

_Bwa-ha-ha, oh yes, a murder so foul! I hope you liked it and please review!_


	2. Allergies in Common

_Sorry it took so long to update, I've been swamped with school. *shrug* Anywho, here you go, it's the 2nd chapter, it's not as good as the 1st though, but what sequel is?_

_Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist.  
_

Teresa, yet again, marveled at the usefulness and scrutiny of the ex-psychic. Within minutes, Jane had figured out how Mia was murdered. The egotistical blond continued to turn the girl's head this way and that, all the while allowing his pristine eyes to memorized ever detail, fault, and beauty mark of her fallen form. A sudden thought hit Teresa.

"How do you know it was murder? She could have accidentally swallowed the bees."

"They wouldn't be alive if she swallowed them," he countered effortlessly, in his usual distracted manner.

"Maybe they got stuck in her throat, choked her, and then flew out-"

"No," Jane stood as quickly as he sat and examined the brunette thoughtfully, "those bees were honey bees. If they would have stung her, they would have lost their stingers and died as their pathetic kind usually does. And the throat theory, tell me," he turned quickly to Cho as though giving one of his infamous quick-quizzes, "If you were a bee with delicate little wings and you were being crushed in someone's esophagus, would you have been able to fly out?" he gave no time for an answer. "No, I've seen this before…" he paused, quickly turning away the group. "See those red lines across her eyes? They're clear symptoms of allergies.

"She's allergic to bees?" Rigsby asked, just then entering the conversation. Jane shook his head.

"No, because allergies to bees are triggered by stings and I don't want to explain the whole bee sting equals death thing. It's honey she's allergic to," Jane finished with a flourish.

"How the heck did honey get in there if there's only bees in there?" Cho asked, jumping in. Jane gave him a don't-be-daft look.

"If you lived in a hive full of honey, wouldn't you get honey on your six feet?"  
"Yes…"

"There you go," Jane put a hand on his shoulder for a few agonizing seconds before taking it off and turning to talk to Teresa. .

* * *

"Okay, as much as I hate to admit it and as much as anyone else knows it, I'm going to say it anyway: Jane was right, Mia had allergies to honey. Where there was missing hairs on her nape, there was also traces of duct tape; just as Jane said," applause lit up the air and Jane gave a slight bow at the waist. Lisbon paused and then continued when the noise stopped.

"Anyway, we believe the bees were forced into her mouth and then the duct tape was placed over it to keep them in," as she paused, she noticed Jane's usual giddy, kid-at-Christmas expression was gone, replaced by an apathetic and an almost, if she wasn't mistaken, scared look.

"That's a horrible way to die…" he whispered to himself but she heard anyway.

"You got that right. The murder who killed her must have either really not liked her or had serious mental problems," Lisbon noticed Jane jump at being heard.

"Or, they loved her too much," Jane shot in as a man walked into the doors of the room they were in, his facial expression worried. Jane and Lisbon, as one, stood and walked up to the man like an impenetrable wall of… something.

"Hello, Mr. Carter!" Jane said in his way-too-cheery-I-must-be-hi voice. The man immediately stopped raised an eyebrow at him.

"Hello…" he replied, slightly unsure.

"Hi, can we help you?" Lisbon said briskly, cutting in where Jane was about to jump in and more than likely, scare him off.

"Yes, I'd like to know what's come along with my daughter's case," he eyed Lisbon, the same eyebrow that was raised a minute ago arched up to a brown tent.

"That's not why you came," Jane wagged a finger at him, chiding him as he'd probably chided Mia many times. He looked at the finger as though it were some disgusting intrusion into his clean little bubble instead of a probably highly-hand sanitized finger.

"And how would you know why I came? Why else would I come?"

"To offer assistance? Maybe you have some clues, maybe your bathroom at home stopped working and we happened to be close. I don't know, tell ME why you came."

* * *

"My daughter, bless her soul, was dating a strange boy. His name was Johnny Earl," he paused from his crying and blowing his nose in a white handkerchief to look at Cho. "You got that? Johnny Earl, two n's and a y."

"Yes," Cho reassured, "we have it. What's the importance of it?" Patrick readjusted his spot next to the interrogator. Every time the man brought his hands up to blow his nose, the light of the dim lighting glinted off of his Stafano Ricci 'wheel' cufflinks. The gel in his dark hair almost matched the brilliance of the glinting links. Even at the distance of half a room, the smell of Clive Christian cologne wafted over as though the man bathed in it. Around his eyebrows that kept jumping up around Lisbon, a pale pinkness bloomed and white glinted off the tips of his newly polished nails.

"Like I said, he was a strange boy. Every time he would pick up Mia, he'd never come up to the door, he'd just sit out in the driveway and honk his horn until my sweet daughter'd go down and say goodbye." Patrick suddenly felt burning in this nose. He reached a hand forward and yanked the handkerchief out of his grasp and retrieved it just in time to sneeze into it. After making a big show of blowing his nose and rubbing his nose, Patrick daintily held out the hanky.

"Thank you," and then he sniffed. Ryan Carter stared at the cloth and gave a small cough of disgust.

"You can keep it," he muttered. Patrick grinned and stuffed the handkerchief into his vest pocket, so it poked out regally.

"Anyway…" Cho dragged the word out so it sounded exasperated, though he was amused by the activities of his comrade. "Is that he did?"

"Well, you should've seen the way he looked at her. He would come in every now and then, and when he did, he'd just stare at her. Like she was some brilliant crystal statue, he'd stare! Even when I'd pick her up from school, when she'd get in he'd follow her every movement," he shuddered.

"How long had they dated?" Patrick cut in.

"About six months." The blonde nodded his mouth slightly open. Suddenly, the dad stood and licked his lips. "That's all I had for you, I just wanted to make sure that you had the right guy." And he left, leaving a cloud of perfume almost like some toxic cloud. _A three hundred-dollar toxic cloud, _Patrick thought.

"Okay, I guess it's time to investigate some adolescence…" Cho muttered to the walls.

* * *

Black, ruffled hair. That was the first thing Patrick noticed about the boy. His hair looked rather like that vampire's from that new movie or book everyone's swooning over, only black. His eyes seemed to roam around the room, as though being somewhere for the first time, though it was his own living room. He had on a pair of dark skinny jeans and a tight fitting band t-shirt. _Isn't The Devil Wear's Prada a chick flick?_

"Mr. Earl?" Lisbon asked, drawing the attention of his father and the boy who both turned to look at her. "Younger."

"Yeah?" He replied, his voice fluid like a singer's.

"I hear you were dating Mia Carter?" Patrick noticed that at the sound of the departed's name, his eyes closed off whatever they were revealing.

"_Was_." He put emphasis on the word. "I just… I can't believe she's gone. She was great, funny, and beautiful," he sighed. It shook with his apparent sadness and quivered like Jell-O.

"Her father says you were obsessed with her," Patrick says, stretching the truth as he usually did. The gated eyes now opened and anger flooded out.

"Her father was a idiot. He didn't care about his family." He sniffed disdainfully before continuing. "And half the time he wasn't home, so I'm not sure how he would know."

"Really?"

"Really!" Johnny stood up. "He's too busy with his brother's company he never even knew anything about Mia, so I think he should shut his glossed up lips and keep his nose out of his daughter's business and go put it in one of the meat processor's of the plant!"

"So, his brother owns a meat processing company?" Rigsby asked, leaning over VanPelt's shoulder to get a look at the Soduko puzzle she was doing. Teresa was about to answer when Jane piped up from the couch.

"Nope. He owns Cart&Carter. They make everything there," he sat up straight. "See these shoes," he pointed to a brown leather shoe. "It's a Cart&Carter creation, and these cufflinks, same thing…" and then he stood up and walked over to VanPelt's desk. He gently picked up her bag of coffee next to her computer desk and examined it. "Even this bag of coffee was made there. They're like some sort of Monopoly."

"Over what?" Cho asked.

"Over everything!" Jane laughed and sat down on the redhead's desk.

"I thought that was illegal," Teresa said. Jane grinned.

"It is. Just not for them."

_Yayz! It's done! And I've got the next one started so hang tight! And, I run on Starbucks and reviews so please... review!_


	3. Turning Back the Clock

_Finally, I got another chapter done! _

_Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist._

"Welcome to Cart&Carter! How may we help you?" A kind, pretty, and fake lady asked at the reception desk. Patrick gave her a disarming smile and leaned on her desk.

"Hi, we're looking for Cart Carter? Can you help us?" The girl leaned forward a bit and smiled, this time it was real.

"I'll help you…" Lisbon quickly stepped up and hooked her elbow through Patrick's, quickly relocating him from the receptionist's desk. She swung him around and put him back behind her.

"Calm down, will you?" she hissed at his eternal smile. It only grew bigger.

"…he's on the top floor," the girl said, backing back up with a disappointed look on her face. Lisbon turned back around and matched her fake smile with one of her own.

"Thank you, we'll see ourselves up there," Cho said, eyeing the girl before being dragged away by the ever charming Lisbon. The whole factory, Patrick noticed, seemed to smell like everything. Leather, pizza, beef, fried chicken, burning plastic, and above all, the sweet, seductive smell of honey. His head exploded with a sneeze.

"Bless you," all four said simultaneously.

"Thank you," he took out the stolen handkerchief and rubbed his nose.

"There's the elevator." VanPelt said, pointing off to the group's right. They took a turn and Rigsby pressed the button. It dinged after a couple of seconds and the doors slid open soundlessly to reveal a cushioned, bright, and empty elevator. With an elegant arm gesture, Patrick stood aside and motioned to the door.

"Ladies first," he said, genteelly making sure the door didn't close on anybody. He waited for everyone (even the guys) to go in before following suit and allowing the door to close behind him.

"_Tres classe_," VanPelt whistled, looking around the small room. That's basically what it was. It was so roomy that nobody was pressed up against anybody, though Rigsby looked kind of depressed about that. The elevator made not a sound as it sped upward, defying gravity and Patrick looked up to see that the light was coming from a minuscule chandelier. _The only thing that's missing is a butler._

It finally gave out a regal 'ding' and the doors slid open. It revealed more expensive carpet and even more chandeliers. Patrick struck out of the elevator first, stepping down and almost losing a shoe in the thick carpet. It felt more like a swamp then an office.

"Hello?" came a question from the desk. Patrick looked up from the carpet and met the receptionist's green stare in the eye. "Can I help you? Do you have an appointment?"

"Yes, we're here to see Mr. Carter and no, we don't have an appointment, we're CBI," Lisbon stated dryly, holding up her badge. The attractive lady looked at the badge for a few seconds before pressing an intercom and speaking sideways into the black microphone:

"You have visitors."

"Do they have an appointment? I don't remember having any appointments today." He replied, his voice cracking over the intercom.

"They're CBI."

"Well then, let them in!" Lisbon found Patrick's gaze and shrugged before stalking over to the French doors and opening them. They opened to reveal more sparkle, more regal, and more expensive stuff.

"Looks like Neiman Marcus had a kid with Bloomingdale's," Patrick muttered, eyeing the small flute's of bubbling champagne and sprinkle-covered chocolates on the enormous desk that sat on the far side of the oblong room. A stereotypical huge chair had its back to the incoming group with a stereotypical conversation coming from the chair's contents.

"Like I said… I've got shipments going out and everything's fine. The only thing we need more of is honey." A pause. "Yeah, those people love honey! Uh-huh, Greenland's is the best so far. It's really cheap, too."

As Cart Carter continued to ramble about honey and somehow got onto the topic of aerosol air fresheners, the five of them creeped up on the desk and finally, Cho cleared his throat obnoxiously. Almost as though the chair were talking, it jumped slightly and swirled around, revealing the shiny and expensive looking body of Cart Carter, the everything tycoon.

"Hi!" he said, grandly revealing a pair of pearl-white teeth. He set down his phone on the table and eyed the small procession. "Welcome to my company. And why, might I ask, are you here?"

"You may ask." Jane said, almost robotically and with a small nod. Cart looked at him and the left side of his face seemed to twitch for a moment before returning to its upright manner.

"You look familiar, what's your name?" he laughed. Lisbon gave Patrick a strange look before he could answer.

"Patrick Jane, and I'd ask yours but I already know it." He shot back. Cart struggled with his faltering smile before covering his mouth, sneezing, and returning with an even bigger smile, rivaling even Patrick's.

"Nice, strong name young man," he laughed. Patrick nodded, slowly bringing his head up then lowering it even slower.

"We have some questions for you," Lisbon cut in. "You seem awfully… happy for someone who's niece just died," she pointed to a picture frame on the desk that revealed itself to hold the smiling face of Mia Carter. His eyes seemed to flash and his smile drooped.

"I'll answer anything that'll help you find her murderers," he said, his face suddenly serious. Patrick smiled and gently rested a hand on the desk, feeling the grooves and intricate patterns in just one touch.

"I'm sure you will."

* * *

"So what do you know about Johnny Earl?" Cho asked, casually throwing his words over the top of the piece of paper he had thrown up in front of his face. Even though he couldn't see Cart Carter, he left the facial expressions and ticks to Patrick. A sniff.

"That little freak? He's crazy and he creeped me out," Cart answered. Cho dropped the paper.

"You knew him?"

"Knew him? That little brat was a freak-"

"So you said," Patrick cut in. Cart turned to him, and looked at him while continuing.

"Every time I saw him, he was swooning over Mia. James told me what he did, and I wholeheartedly agree to him, he was crazy."

"Sounds like your preaching to the choir," Patrick said. Cart looked him in the eye, staring him down with his raven eyes.

"Look, I don't care what you think or say, but whatever you do, DON'T count that kid out. He did something, I just don't know what."

* * *

"Okay, so let me get this straight," Rigsby paced around the office, making Teresa feel tired. "We have two, full-grown men saying a teenager did it and we have a teenage rebel saying he didn't. And there's still a debate?" he stopped and looked straight at Jane. Teresa followed his gaze and met Jane's guarded, thoughtful, glacier eyes. "Well?"

"I can't imagine that a father knows what goes through a teenage boy's brain," he sighed, confusing the people in the room. "Teenage boys these days aren't like they used to be. An older man's version of lust is today's crush. We can't rely on two different age groups, we need to get a closer look at this."

"And how do you suppose we do that?" Jane smiled at her, making a cold shiver run down her spine. But, there was something in his grin that totally screamed 'cute puppy dog with mange, take me home!'

"Field trip?"

* * *

"Oh great," Teresa sighed, glaring up at the big, brick walled teenage-asylum. Jane turned, cocked his head at her, and smiled.

"Did you know," he began as they began their trek up the stairs. "The asylum that's just a couple miles out of town was the old high school?"

"Ironic." Her fingers had just wrapped around the handle when the bell rang. A flood of teenagers immediately flowed endlessly out the doors and poured down the hallways, some of them even heading towards the door. The front-runners were a band of girls that popped out of Gossip Girl. The slinked down the hallway and stopped as soon as they got to the door. Teresa wondered for a moment, but stopped as she opened the door.

"Hello ladies," Jane said his voice silky. The girls stopped talking and stared… and stared… and stared. _Keep your eyes in your heads, _Teresa growled mentally, but honestly couldn't blame them_._

"Hi," the one in the middle, obviously the leader, said, exiting out the opened door and stopping mere inches in front of the blond. "The name's Brenna," a cough from behind and the blonde swallowed a sharp comment. "And those two are Tina and Lauren." Teresa noticed as Jane looked at Brenna and her lackeys for a few moments before reaching into his jacket pocket. For some reason, Teresa couldn't shake the image of a teenage Jane walking through a high school, beating off girls with a metal pole.

"Do any of you girls know Mia Carter?" he asked, pulling out a tissue. The mood immediately changed. The lead attack dog's eyes went from seduction mode to watery mode in seconds.

"Oh, poor thing," she said, grabbing Jane's offered tissue and blowing her nose daintily in it. The two girls in the school sighed and wiped at their eyes.

"Apparently so," Jane muttered to Teresa. She felt a rush of satisfaction as the nose-blowing girl glared at her.

"Do you know anything about her death?" Teresa asked quickly. Brenna removed the tissue to reveal a scowl.

"Who are you guys?" she asked and Teresa saw a future victim.

"We're CBI," she threw back effortlessly and Brenna immediately began her charade again.

"I don't know anything about it. I just knew that she was going with this totally hot guy, Johnny. They'd been dating for awhile, but he was too shy to start anything serious," she sighed, almost as though it were a shame.

"Shy?" Jane asked.

"Yeah," Tina finally stepped up. "Mia actually had to ask him out, because he was too shy to ask her."

Brenna's eyes looked between the Jane and Teresa. "You don't think HE did it, do you?"

"He was a little strange…" Lauren suggested shyly.

"I thought you just said he was hot?" Teresa threw in.

"Strange and hot go too good together," Brenna sniffed as though it was common knowledge. Another bell rang through their interrogation.

"Well, we better get to class," Lauren stuttered slightly. The two girls nodded and they disappeared in a cloud of perfume. Brenna stopped and turned to look at Jane.

"Now that I think about it, Mia's dad seemed a little possessive of her. Every time Johnny'd go to give her a hug goodbye, he'd honk his horn and yell at him. They couldn't even talk to each other when he was there." She ended on a note that indicated she was thoroughly finished, turned, and left.

Teresa watched as Jane watched them leave, and matched his glance as he turned to her and chuckled darkly.

"And so, the plot thickens…"

_Bwa-ha-ha-hick. Yayz! Cliffhanger! Thanks for reading and please tell me what you thought! Sorry, I know it was short._


	4. Old Friends

_I am so so so so so so so so so so so sorry for the wait! I'm ashamed of myself for taking so long, but here's the next chapter._

_Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist.

* * *

  
_

The knock at the door prompted it being opened by the stunningly beautiful Emily Carter, James Carter's wife. Patrick examined her and noticed the small details that shouldn't be there. Crow's feet pricked at her shining dark eyes, gray roots that poked through her blonde hair, the ratty clothes. The house itself was nothing that a man looking like James Carter should be living in.

"Excuse me, who are you?" she asked, not unkindly, through the screen door. Teresa flashed her badge quickly and rumbled out the tired old line: "CBI". Patrick felt pity twist his stomach as her face fell.

"Oh," was all she said as she opened the screen door and let the two into her house. Patrick immediately took in his surroundings; the ratty brown carpet, old and red gingham couch, and the ancient TV perched on a stand. "This is about Mia, right?"

Patrick stopped looking and turned to flash her a reassuring smile. She managed a weak one, one that trembled like a willow in the wind. "Yes, we have a few questions for you," he muttered. As though the energy had left her legs, she collapsed on her couch.

"Okay, I'll tell you what I know," she murmured. Patrick sat beside her and Lisbon kept standing.

"We've heard two different points of view about Johnny Earl, Mia's boyfriend, so we'd love to hear yours," Patrick said gently. Emily looked into his eyes for a few moments before looking up at Teresa.

"Johnny? He was a nice boy… but what does he have to do with this?" It hit her then. "You don't think he could have anything to do with this, do you?" she looked back and forth between the two of them.

"Your husband said something about him being obsessed with your daughter and Cart was suspicious as well," Teresa answered.

"You talked to James?" she asked, slightly unsure how to take that. Patrick noticed her sudden shock and took note.

"Actually, he came and talked to us. He told us all about Johnny and we wouldn't have known about him had it not been for your husband," Patrick muttered, almost as though he were thinking out loud.

"Emily?" The three members of the room looked up to see James Carter standing in the doorway, his suit in place and a rather perturbed look on his face. His gaze rested on Patrick Jane. "What are you doing here?"

"We're asking your wife some questions," Lisbon answered. James looked up and arched an eyebrow at her, like he didn't see her before.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, and I heard some pretty interesting things from the neighborhood tramps. Says that you were pretty strict on your daughter," Patrick turned quickly to Emily. "Was your daughter one to rebel?"

"What? No! She would never do anything rash! She always did what she was told and…"

"And teenagers like that usually have pent-up anger. Had she shown any signs of going against the usual? Maybe she went goth… or got something pierced, I don't know! Heck, maybe she even started… dating someone unnapproved?" James face turned to a rather dangerous beet color. _And here's the final proof…_

"Get out of my house," he rumbled, his voice low but deadly. Patrick slowly stood up.

"What's wrong?" Patrick asked, slowly heading towards the door.

"Get out of my house!" this time he shouted it, his beet color extending to his eyes as veins threatened to make him look like his dead daughter.

"Fine, fine… I'm leaving…" he stopped and turned to Lisbon. "Come on, lets go back, I'd like to talk to you…" that popped a vein in James.

"GET OUT!!!" he shouted. Patrick gave one last grin and turned around, already knowing that Lisbon would be behind him. Almost as soon as she had stepped outside of the door, it was slammed, creating a minuscule hurricane.

"Friendly people…" Patrick chuckled, yanking on the handle of the car. Two doors slammed and the engine roared to life before Lisbon gave a dry chuckle.

"It's amazing how optimistic you are." Oaks whisked past.

"I try… I try," Patrick laughed, looking out at the trees. He suddenly turned around to stare at Lisbon's profile. Her prominent, pure brown eyes… gorgeous, brunette and complementing curling locks that framed her pale, perfect skin… "I want to drive!"

The slight swerve in her driving proved that Patrick's whining, and incredibly random outburst had taken her by surprise. Her profile quickly turned into her full face as she turned to stare at her companion.

"What?"

"I want to drive! We always go placed together, but I never get to drive." He paused. "And isn't the man supposed to drive, anyway?"

"We're not going on a date and this has nothing to do with being chivalrous!" Patrick laughed and put on an innocent face.

"I never said anything about a date…" Lisbon suddenly seemed to freeze, her peach lips held slightly open, almost begging for something resembling a kiss. Patrick swallowed the lump of convulsing tissue that jumped into his throat.

"You don't watch where you're driving!" Lisbon snapped her composure back. Patrick shook his head slightly and turned to the road.

"It's because I'm too busy watching you…" he muttered, just strategically loud enough for her to hear. Lisbon slowly turned her head to him.

"You're… what?" she asked, her eyes narrowed to disbelieving slits. Patrick, slowly but surely, raised his hand and even slower than that, pointed it to the…

"Watch where you're driving!" he shouted, whipping his head to the road and scaring Lisbon enough to make her swerve around the invisible raccoon that was just unfortunate enough to be apart of the blond's ambitious plot. As soon as the car straightened up, Lisbon let loose.

"You planned that!" she growled loudly. Patrick never answered, though, and merely let out a merry laugh, and slowly, like a blooming flower, a red rose to be precise, the dangerous gloom in the car evaporated.

* * *

"So… what'd you find out?" Van Pelt inquired, almost immediately as the duo stepped into the room. Teresa sighed and threw her body into her chair, opening her mouth to reply.

"We found out that the mother was hiding something," Jane cut in, collapsing on his couch and throwing a pillow over his face, a sure sign of deep thought. The four other occupants in the room turned to look at him, confusion scribbled on their faces. Even Teresa, who'd been with him the whole time, was utterly confused.

"What are you talking about?" she asked. It grated against her nerves to know that Jane was just where he wanted to be, in the middle of the spotlight with the answers to the questions all lying on their lips.

"Didn't you see the way she got jumpy and nervous as soon as we mentioned her husband?" he lifted the pillow up as he talked so his words weren't slurred.

"Yeah, so what?"

"So, she looked as though she regretted saying something. Usually, women only regret saying something if they're going to get punished for it later. So, using common knowledge, we can assume that what she said would get her in trouble with someone, presumably her husband. And since she knew to regret it, and had to stop herself, she probably knows more than she said."

"You think James had a part in the murder of his own daughter?" Van Pelt asked, indecision showing on her face. There was a muffled laugh, and Jane moved the pillow again.

"Why do you sound so disgusted? We've seen worse," he fiddled with the pillow before dropping it on his face, ending the conversation. The four remaining agents regarded him questioningly for a moment before turning to each other to discuss the new twist on the case.

"Shoulda' thought of that," Rigsby mumbled, fiddling absently with the corner of his desk. "We always think of the dad."

"Yes, but we were too busy with uncles and boyfriends." Cho rebutted, calmly folding his arms before his chest.

"And what did we find from them?" Van Pelt asked, sarcasm dripping from her voice as she reread a paper on the case.

"Nothing," Rigsby tried to agree with her rhetorical question. Cho sighed and shook his head, shooting him a glance that clearly read _fool. _Lisbon just gave a small shake of her hair before turning back around to face her computer. She typed a bit before giving an aggravated grunt.

"James Carter had an alibi for that night! And a solid one, at that." The couch creaked as Jane sat up and swept a gaze around the room, his ocean eyes slightly clouded from his daze. He ran a hand through his hair before walking over to the computer and laying a hand over Lisbon. In response, she jerked her hand out from under his, but didn't even get a look from him. He gently clicked on another name, but it showed no alibi.

"Cart."

* * *

Cart swirled around in his chair, stomping his foot down and speeding up every now and then when he started to lag. He looked like an oversized, official kid and he knew it, but didn't quite care. He had status, so no one could judge him out loud, and out loud was where it mattered. Finally, he stomped his foot down, stopping the chair abruptly.

"Dria," he sang into the intercom, holding down the button imperiously. "I need you to give me the files from 20 years ago. All of the lawsuits," he stopped as her voice crackled back.

"Sir, those files are all on paper."

"Well then, you best start looking. I want them in at least 20 minutes."

There was a pause, before Dria sighed back, "yes sir." To her credit, it only took her 10 to find the yellow folders. She laid them on the desk, gave a polite nod, and left, leaving nothing but deep footprints in the plush carpet. As soon as the door closed, Cart went at those folders in a frenzy. He flipped them open, reading the names that sat blatantly on the paper, snapping them back closed after his efforts were in vain. He went through folder after folder, finding not but empty names that hadn't been paid. Of course, his idea was only a wild good chase, for his memory wasn't that good, yet the nagging sensation in the back of his mind kept him going until he opened a folder and found his name, printed innocently on the paper with a list of the lawsuit. The only lawsuit they had ever lost.

Cart gave a deep sigh, gently closing the folder and placing it in his top drawer. _So that's why he looked familiar, because he is… _he thought, gently massaging his head. Then he laughed. "A friend from my reckless days!" He paused then lightly took a truffle off his desk, "And I hate friends."

* * *

_There you have it! Kind of short, but it's one of those get back into stride after not writing on it kind of chapters. I hope you like it!_


End file.
